


Let It Slip Through Our Hands

by Walutahanga



Series: The Arrow of the Inland Sea [3]
Category: A Fisherman of the Inland Sea - Ursula K. Le Guin (Short Story), Arrow (TV 2012), The Birthday of the World and Other Stories - Ursula K. Le Guin
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fusion, Crossover, F/F, F/M, Forgiveness, M/M, Multi, Pregnancy, Reconciliation, Relationship Negotiation, Sedoretu, Unplanned Pregnancy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-06
Updated: 2015-03-06
Packaged: 2018-03-16 16:04:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,958
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3494468
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Walutahanga/pseuds/Walutahanga
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Oliver's sedoretu was broken by the events on the Amazo, and he has no intention of putting it back together. Then Maseo wakes him up in the middle of the night with news. </p>
<p>(Fusion with Ursula K Le. Guin's "Fisherman of the Inland Sea")</p>
            </blockquote>





	Let It Slip Through Our Hands

**Author's Note:**

> The sequel to 'Promises I Made' in which Shado and Sara survive Ivo's sadistic choice, thanks to Shado's pregnancy. Unfortunately some events still played out the same and Sara died (or appeared to) on the Amazo. 
> 
> If you're unfamiliar with sedoretu, details can be found here: http://fanlore.org/wiki/Sedoretu. To give a brief summary, marriages are made up of four people; two men and two women. There must be one man and one woman of the Evening moiety, and one man and one woman of the Morning moiety. Members are expected to form sexual relationships with those of the opposite moiety while maintaining a platonic relationship with the person of their own moiety.
> 
> Oliver and Shado are Morning moiety, and Slade is Evening.

Oliver doesn’t see a lot of Shado or Slade in Hong Kong.

He’d made his feelings for Slade clear after the Amazo – _“I never want to see you again”_ – and Slade had respected it. Shado had sent him a few messages through Maseo, but even that deep, easy friendship is no longer what it once was. Part of Oliver can’t help but resent her forgiving Slade.

Waller at least knows better than to put him and Slade on the same team, or she did after Oliver nearly screwed up a job to punch Slade in the face. In Oliver’s defence, it had been the first time he’d seen Slade since the Amazo and Slade had taken the punch like a pro. He’d tried to apologise, but Oliver hadn’t been in any mood to listen. He still isn’t. Rationally he knows that it wasn’t Slade’s fault what happened, that it was the Mirakuru screwing with his brain. It still doesn’t change the fact that Sara is dead and it was Slade that killed her.

They’ve been in Hong Kong for months when Oliver's woken by Maseo in the middle of the night. 

“Get your clothes on.”

“Another job?” Oliver groans. Waller could at least give him some warning before putting him on one of her jobs.  

“You’re going to the hospital. Shado’s in labour.”

For a second that means something, then Oliver recalls that he bowed out of this sedoretu.

“Wonderful. I’m sure Slade will be very happy.”

He rolls over and closes his eyes. Maseo yanks the blankets off.

“Slade is in surgery.” Oliver’s eyes fly open and he sits up. Maseao continues: “A job went sour. Nothing serious, but he’s not going to wake up in time. Shado could use her Moiety brother.”

“I’m not her brother.”

“Fine. She could use a friend. You can hate her and Slade all you want afterwards, but right now she’s scared and in pain and you owe her enough to put it aside for a few hours.”

Maseo sounds like Slade, which isn’t doing him any favours. Oliver still gets up and get dressed.

At the Argus hospital, he’s shown into a room where Shado is lying on an uncomfortable looking bed. Her belly is huge compared to when he last saw her. Her face is pale and strained and she jerks when he walks in, like she’d reach for a weapon if there was one in reach.

“Oliver?” He feels like a dick at the utter relief on her face. She really _was_ scared. “What are you doing here?”

“Maseo told me.” He pulls up a chair. “How are you feeling?”

“Like I’m giving birth thousands of miles form home, among people holding me hostage, and my boyfriend’s next door having a bullet dug out of him.” She winces suddenly, knuckles tightening where she grips the handrail. When the contraction passes, she adds dryly “The silver lining is the medical care.”

“Oh yeah, _so_ glad I’m not the one delivering this.”

That scores a smile out of her.

“I remember that. You were almost as horrified as when Slade said he loved me.” She seems to realise almost immediately that was the wrong thing to say. “I’m sorry, I didn’t think–”

“It’s fine.” Oliver dismisses it. “You’re the one in labour, you can say what you like. Swear at me, even, if it helps.”

“I may hold you to that.” She pauses a beat. “I’m glad you’re here, Oliver.”

He stays with her through the night, as the contractions draw closer together. He fetches her ice-chips when she asks for them and helps her sit up when she needs to change position. The doctor comes in and out to check on her, and his calm competency is reassuring for both of them.

Around 3am, Shado is told she can start pushing and at 5:15am the doctor tells her she can stop.

“Why?” Oliver says.

“The head’s almost out. Short shallow breaths, Shado. I know you want to push, just hold it back.”

Oliver can’t see anything with the sheet in the way, and he’s more concerned with Shado who looks exhausted and wrung out like a cloth. He wonders how much longer this is supposed to go on for.

“Here we go,” the doctor says, and then he’s suddenly laying something pink and grey on Shado’s chest. It has arms and legs and is covered it what looks like mucus, and Shado’s hands come up to cradle it automatically.

“Oh,” she says. Then, softer: “Oh. Oliver, look. _Look_.”

The head is turned away so Oliver only see the tiny rosebud hands that clench and unclench. He touches one little palm, fascinated by the doll-like size, and the tiny fingers curl about the tip of his index finger.

And just like that, everything changes.

In all the trouble they went to on the island, worrying if Shado would survive, Oliver had never given much thought to the end product. He’d thought of it as a pregnancy or a foetus, or a problem to solve. Now it’s here and it's a baby and it’s clutching his finger in its blind, instinctive grip.

“What is it?” He says. “Boy or girl?”

“Girl.” Shado is crying; a slow seep of tears she doesn’t seem to notice or care about. “A little baby girl.”

_A girl_ , Oliver thinks, looking at the miniscule seashell fingernails and feeling overwhelmed by something that’s not even a tenth of his body weight. _A girl._ He tries to remember what being a girl had meant for Thea and can only remember her crying because the other girls were mean or saying she didn’t want mashed potatoes because they would make her fat. And all that before she was twelve.

Being a girl is suddenly a very frightening, scary idea and within seconds he’s worked himself up into a panic that abruptly disappears into wonder when the baby shifts her grip. 

“Look at you,” he murmurs. “Was it you making all that trouble earlier?” He bobs his finger gently up and down, pleased when her grip remains strong and she doesn’t let go. Just like her mom.

The doctor and nurse eventually take her to the side to wash and weigh her and do other apparently important things. Afterwards they wrap her up in a white blanket and bring her back to Oliver and Shado. This time Oliver is the one to hold her and he does so very carefully, supporting the back of her head. It is suddenly horrifying that his hands have pulled triggers and snapped necks, and now they’re cradling the delicate skull and body of a newborn.

“Your partner is awake,” the doctor tells Shado. “He’s just out of surgery now.”

“Can he come in?” Shado says eagerly.

“He’s still very out of it. He probably won’t even know what’s going on.”

“Slade should see her,” Oliver says. Not that he’s over being angry with Slade – he’s not – but this is important. This is a moment Shado’s daughter will ask about oneday, and she should be able to hear that Slade was there.

The doctor hesitates.

“Alright then. This way.”

Which is how Oliver finds himself accidentally having volunteered to carry a baby to the room of a man he’s sworn never to speak to again. At the end of the hall, the doctor pulls back the divider and says:

“Remember, he’s _very_ out of it. Don’t let him hold her – the state he’s in, he’s liable to drop her.”

“No holding. Got it.”

Inside, Slade is lying in bed, eyes closed. Underneath the surgical gown, there’s bandages down the right side of his chest. He’s grown a short beard since Oliver last saw him; strange, because he’d always been so rigorous about keeping himself clean shaven on the island, had even given Oliver a hard time when he didn’t do the same. Other than that, he doesn't look much different to when Oliver stuck him with the cure all those months ago. 

“Slade,” Oliver says. “Slade, wake up.”

Slade’s eyes flicker and open.

“Kid?” He rasps.

“Yeah, it’s me.”

“I must be on the good stuff. You hate me.”

Oliver decides not to bother arguing whether he hates Slade or the reality of what’s happening.

“I’ve got someone for you to meet.” He holds the baby so that Slade can see her face; nothing else is visible, she’s that rugged up. “This is your daughter.”

Slade blinks at her blearily.

“Can’t be. Shado’s still pregnant.”

“She just gave birth.”

Slade shakes his head.

“You’re a hallucination. What do you know?”

Oliver sighs and leans in so that the baby is nearly touching Slade’s chest.

“Put your arms around her. Don’t worry, I’ve got her. Just put your arms around her.” Slade slowly obeys, hands going automatically to the right position to hold a baby, even though they’re clearly not strong or coordinated enough to do it at the moment. It's the closest Oliver's been to Slade without trying to hit him in months. Slade looks down, perplexed.

“She’s warm,” he says wonderingly, the tip of one finger tracing the baby's cheek.  

Oliver patiently keeps that position for the next few minutes, letting Slade have this contact with his daughter, even if he only seems partly aware of what’s happening. At least Slade can say honestly that he did hold her the day of her birth, even if he won’t remember doing it.

When Oliver straightens, ready to go back to Shado's room, Slade’s fingers curl in the hem his shirt.

“I’m sorry,” he says. “I know you loved her.”

He’s not talking about his daughter now.

Oliver’s jaw is suddenly clenched and it’s only the weight of the infant in his arms that keeps him from yelling or causing a scene.

“We can talk about this later,” he says tightly, but Slade isn’t listening.

“I can’t even tell you _why_ I did it. She was your lover and I hurt her and I can’t give you a single reason why I’d do something like that.”

Oliver stares at him.

“You don’t remember?” In all his seething rage, it had never occurred to him that Slade might not _know_ exactly what he’d done. That he might have woken up and lost weeks, even months of his life.

Slade seems to take it as an accusation, letting go of his death grip of Oliver’s shirt.

“I’m sorry, kid. I’d take it back if I could.”

“It’s…” Oliver takes a breath, carefully adjust his grip on the baby. “Slade, we’ll talk about this when you wake up, okay? Just go to sleep and get some rest. We’ll talk about it later.”

He waits until Slade closes his eyes and carries the baby back to Shado’s room. His head is a swirling mess of conflicted feelings, of which anger features significantly less than it did an hour ago. Slade not remembering shouldn't fix everything - and it doesn't - but it gives Oliver a new sense of clarity. Just like when Shado's daughter grabbed his finger and went from 'pain in the ass problem' to 'baby', this changes everything. 

Maseo is waiting in Shado's room. 

“Time to go,” he says, not unsympathetically, and just like that reality comes crashing back in. They’re still stuck in Hong Kong, still under Waller’s control, and escape just became twice as complicated.

“Give me a minute,” Oliver says. When Maseo retreats, Oliver lays the baby in Shado’s arms and whispers to her: “Tell Slade I’m ready to talk. I can’t promise I’m not angry, but we should sort some things out.”

Like how to get their sedoretu out of Waller’s grasp.

They’ve got a kid now. They need to start thinking about the future. 

**Author's Note:**

> The title is from the lyrics of the Ronnie Dunn song "Bleed Red".


End file.
